


Bourbon Vanilla

by fjot



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, Character Bashing, Childishness and Pettiness, Dominance, Drama, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Humiliation, Humor, Infidelity, Out of Character, Pregnancy, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Switching, Vanilla
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23911978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fjot/pseuds/fjot
Summary: Calzona AU. Arizona has been described by her lovers as being boring in the sack. Not that it matters what any of her exes think because guess what? Her prim and proper fiancee, Lauren, hasn't complained! Not that Arizona hasn't had thoughts of doing something less predictable. It just wouldn't be proper, so Lauren says.On the other hand, her friend Callie says, screw that! But Arizona doesn't "screw" anything. She couldn't picture it. Not with Lauren anyway. Gosh, this again?! What is she even thinking?! She's engaged, for crying out loud!Meanwhile, sex crazed Callie doesn't have time for that kind of drama in her life. No sir! She's got an idiot boyfriend, Mark, and all they do is The Do. But what do you know? Callie gets pregnant! The pregnancy turns her existing urges into full on, uncontrollable bouts of nymphomania, with a splash of mood swing to go along with it. There's only one person that she wants to do something about it. And there's nothing vanilla about it.
Relationships: Arizona Robbins/Calliope "Callie" Torres, Lauren Boswell/Arizona Robbins, Mark Sloan/Calliope "Callie" Torres
Comments: 25
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Um...hi? :/
> 
> Work, school, life. It's hectic. FYI haven't discontinued the other one. The whole story is insanely long (300k unedited) and it's a disorganized mess. Hard to sort through those long chapters without feeling drained. So I've been doing other things. 
> 
> In the meantime, this is one of my projects. I'm trying to find a balance so work with me. You can help me out by letting me know if this story is worth your time to read or not, that way I can focus on another story while I'm editing Shh.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't condone cheating or even some of the other behaviors, but this story has cheating protagonists. They cheat frequently and they don't cut corners with it :/ That being said, this is really NSFW. This story has very explicit adult content and language, and it's OOC. 
> 
> I like a reckless AZ but I switched things up in this one. I tried for a slow burn, but I'm not sure I succeeded. Anyway...
> 
> fjot

After what seemed like an eternity of enduring a nerve wracking stare off, Mark finally blinked.

"What?" He said.

He slumped against the door jamb, blinking slowly as if in a daze. Cognizant now, though he still maintained his slack jawed expression. Blood was probably roaring in his ears and his heart had to be ricocheting like a ping pong ball against his ribs. She had to give him credit though. At least he didn't pass out.

“What?" He repeated numbly. "What did you just say?”

Callie said nothing in response. She was pretty sure he had indeed heard what she’d said to him. Last she’d checked, there wasn’t anything wrong with his hearing. Surely, it wasn’t selective, nor was she in no way a mumbler.

Mumbler? Her? Her mother would rue the day that happened. Rue was her mother’s word, of course. Callie’s own vocabulary was much more...assertive. Not wholly impolite or brusque. Or even uncouth for that matter. But her manner of speaking was definitely not something that could be defined as passive.

And she certainly did not mumble.

It didn’t matter if it was the proper usage of the word or slang that she was speaking. When she spoke, she did it clearly, enunciating every syllable with crisp inflections. Yes, her inflections were that of a crackle. Or a crunch, maybe. Like chips or fancy crackers. Crisp. With a delicate _snap_ when broken apart. Sometimes, with a bit of salt. Other times, with a sweet, smoky spice to accent it. Depending on the person, and more importantly, on her mood, a “thank you” and a “fuck you” could carry the same flavors.

And she certainly made sure her intent was heard.

She pursed her lips and shifted on the closed toilet seat. “I’m not stale, Mark,” she snapped, her eyes pinning him in place by the open bathroom door. “And I’m not bland either. I am _crisp_.”

“What?” He said, still blinking unawares.

He wasn’t looking at her, at least not anymore. Mere moments ago, she had called his name and he had burst into the bathroom like Captain America, no doubt expecting some action in the shower. Why? She did not know. There certainly hadn’t been any sweetness nor smokiness in her lilt to suggest sex. 

He had found her fully clothed. Well, she was wearing a t-shirt and her underwear, but she wasn’t exactly nude either. Not like he was used to. And his salacious grin had fell when she told him the news. Just as she had expected it to. His bright face was sullen and ashen, and his lusty look transformed into something that made her think that she wasn’t faring well in the looks department.

In mere months, that might certainly be the case.

Now, he looked like she had swiped his toy truck, morose, staring at the stick on the counter as if all the goodness in his life was completely sucked away. Staring with lifeless eyes as if he would sooner think he hadn’t heard her properly than to accept the truth that was feet away from him.

The truth was that his “Down To Fuck” girlfriend had thrown a wrench into their perfectly functioning lifestyle.

He shook his head and then offered her a weak chuckle, his face regaining its color.

“Oh!” He said and snapped to attention. “You’re joking.” He sounded relieved. Then, he let out a laugh, an honest to god belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and a churning to her stomach. “You got me, Chula. That was a good one.”

“No, Mark,” Callie deadpanned, lunging up from the throne. “ _You. Got. Me_. With that...That disgusting little dick of yours!”

She snatched the pregnancy test from the counter and marched over to him. And then, with a battle cry, she jabbed it into his thigh, jerking and twisting it to set the hurt in. She missed her target, but she settled for his groan of pain nonetheless.

“Little?” He squeaked through gritted teeth, and stumbled out of the way as she pushed past him into her bedroom. She yanked off her t-shirt, spun on her heel, and flung it at him. It hit his face with an unsatisfactory _plop._

It wasn’t fair to blame him, but what was with his reaction? This wasn’t ideal for her either. But, no. Because she was a _woman_ , the burden of responsibility fell onto her. So naturally, that would include her reactions, too! How _dare_ she take this news with anything other than in stride, with a smile and a sandwich on the side? And maybe a homemade pie to go with it, like nature intended?!

“Mark, why the _fuck_ would I joke about something like this?” She said, wrenching open her drawer and snagging a fresh shirt. “Did you even look at the test I handed you?”

He stared with wide eyes. She hadn’t _handed_ him anything.

“And I swear to god, if you ask me if it’s yours, I’ll-”

“No, wait!” He blurted, rushing into the room in front of her. “I didn’t think that. I know it’s mine. I just…” He blew out a breath, his mouth moving but nothing coming out. He settled for putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, looking as if he wanted her to fill in the blanks for him.

But no way was she going to accept _his_ responsibility, too.

“I just…” He said. “I can’t believe it.”

Now, Callie was the one blinking. She stared into her boyfriend’s eyes. Those eyes that always seemed to flirt with her. Those eyes that were kind with an amusing glint. Those _lying ass eyes_ that had looked both guilty and smug when he hadn’t pulled out like he said he would.

“Of course you can’t,” she whispered. Of course, he couldn’t. Because neither could she. She clenched the t-shirt hard in her hand, the cotton feeling damp. And she herself felt exposed in her undergarments, standing this close to him while he was fully clothed. It made her want to squirm and that had never happened before.

“Forget it," she said.

Callie shook him off of her and finished dressing herself as quickly as she could with her shaky hands. How crazy it was that he had once been the friend to comfort her when she had felt so small?

As a boyfriend, he was without a doubt…

A full blown dumb ass.

She stormed to the bedroom door.

“Cal, wait,” he called at her back. “I think we should talk about-”

She kept moving, away from him. Away from that _thing_ on the bathroom floor and the cause of it. It was too late for his words and she had to get away. Past the happy memories of both them and their friends that dotted the red walls. Past the calico kitten that meowed her greeting in a squeak that mirrored Mark’s calls as she retreated. She stormed past the savory smells of vegetable stir fry and jasmine rice that sat waiting on the immaculate stove top. She paused at the kitchen island, and stared at the bottle of wine that Mark had gotten for their evening together. They should be watching another superhero movie right now. They were Mark’s favorites, all of them were, but to Callie, they were all the same.

Bland.

She only tolerated the movies because _he_ enjoyed them. And in turn, she would get what she enjoyed: Losing herself in bed with him. Mind numbing sex to go with the mind numbing spirits. Her job was stressful enough. Her home life was supposed to be her leisure.

Without thought, Callie reached out for the bottle, then paused again, wetting her lips. She had to ruin everything, didn’t she? Dinner. Mark’s movie. Her bedtime story. All of it!

Ruined.

Even her drink. Because now, she couldn’t. Not with…not when she was expecting.

_Her? Expecting?_

Her hand fell limply back to her side.

Empty.

She supposed that went without saying, laying off the alcohol. Drinking was what had gotten her into this shit in the first place after all. She wasn’t a drunk, but she had been way past her limit the night Mark had _got her._

They had been at a good friend’s engagement party. Her friend’s soon-to-be spouse? An angel…That’s to say the woman was a duck that had fallen from grace, losing her lips in the process in order to become a foul humanoid creature that flailed about in a demonic wasteland.

But yes. It had been their engagement party, and many of Seattle Grace's friendly faces had been invited. Not just the inner circle, which included Callie and Mark, but the overall turnout was amazing.

It had been a night of cheer, if it could be called that. Technically, it'd been classified as a celebration, but apart from her colleagues, there had been more stiffs in attendance than, well, the one in Callie's car.

It hadn’t been a party by her standards. If her _mother_ had been the one having the party, then Callie would say that the whole shebang went off without a hitch. It hadn't been her mother's party though. And that night had been all champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. Chandeliers and fucking Chopin competing with Tchaikovsky. A white tie dress code had been put into effect, and if that hadn't been bad enough, there had been a schedule.

Now, Callie didn't see anything wrong with any of that. There was simply a time and a place for everything. There was also the person to consider, and if her friend was celebrating the start of her life with someone special, then her touch should have been included. It hadn't been enjoyable for her friend because she'd been one of the stiffs that evening, not showing a genuine dimple at her own party, and it had been sad to watch. Because her friend had wanted a keg. She had wanted chicken wings. She had wanted a DJ, and individual toasts, and smart casual. Callie knew all of this because she’d known her for years now.

Before Callie grabbed hold of her, Arizona had had a fake smile plastered on her face since before the first “Congratulations,” were uttered. She had grimaced as she munched on fancy, peppered crackers. Her nose had wrinkled when Lauren's old ass abuela kept pulling her away for chats. And she had tripped on her gown more times than Callie could count, even if she had been sober and marking them all with tallies. Her blonde hair had been in a chignon for fucks’ sake. Fucks. Plural, because it had all been so wrong. All of it had been so very wrong, and none of it had been Arizona’s idea. But of course, the woman would do anything that her dragon breathed _Lauren_ wanted her to. Even accepting her proposal.

She could hear Mark shuffling into the room before she saw him in her peripheral. He looked as sheepish as he had been at the engagement party, where he had wiped at her soiled dress after his failed promise to her. She had been drunk that night, but not forgetful. She remembered everything clearly and in vivid detail. She had slapped him then, but the very next day, it had been the furthest thing from her mind on the list of things that she remembered...

It was funny how she hadn’t given his slip much thought before now. Whenever she wasn't operating, she'd been scatterbrained. She had Addison to thank for snapping her out of her ruminations. Who knew asking for a tampon could induce a panic attack to end all others? Anxiety over a missed period hadn’t been a walk in the park for her, and tonight, when she finally mustered the courage to take the pregnancy test, only then did his slip really matter to her. She could see Mark inching closer on eggshells and she struggled against the sudden urge to throw his words back in his face in her anger.

She hurried to the coat rack and swiped her jacket off of it.

That night, Callie and friends had drank. They had drank, and drank, and drank some more in defiance of that spawned creature, _Lauren,_ and all that she stood for. It was meant to be a party, damn it. And there was no thought spared to class or propriety. They had toasted and laughed boisterously and even ordered pizza and wings. Disrespectful, sure. But who the hell cared? They needed some real food.

Those were Barbara’s words, not Callie’s.

Hell, someone, Teddy maybe, had brought Bud Light to pass around. A tasteless beer in Callie’s opinion, but fitting for the cause. Daniel seemed to agree with the sentiment, as he gave a gruff nod while pulling a bottle of Jamesson out of his car. Their actions had turned things around, that was for sure.

But above all else, the craziest kicker was that Callie had convinced Arizona to participate in their shenanigans. Oh sure, Arizona had bit her lip and shifted uncomfortably, whining her, “But Laurens” and “I can’ts,” and etceteras. Pleading until she was red in the face. But Callie had pummeled her good until she relented. She had liquored Arizona up until she had been as drunk as they all were.

And then…

Things certainly had been eye opening...

Afterwards, Callie had dragged Mark out of the house, not wanting to wait until they were at his place. They escaped to her Thunderbird, filling the windows with condensation and giving old ass gran-in-law a mini stroke on her way to her chauffeur.

It had been a wild night.

Callie stared at the door, swallowing thickly as she slipped on her leather jacket.

“Cal,” Mark said behind her. “Where are you going?”

At the time, she thought he had been prepared. He always was so Callie didn’t have to be. And now? Neither of them were prepared for the consequences. They could barely face each other, let alone face this new thing between them. Even though he was talking now, Callie knew his head still had to be reeling. Hers still was and she feared she would flip out if she remained here with him a second longer. All it would take was another stupid remark.

What was she supposed to do?

“Work,” she said, her voice quavering. She needed to run some tests.

“Now?” He asked, confused. “What about-”

“I can’t right now.” She blinked rapidly and reached for the doorknob with a trembling hand. “I’ll call you later. I just…I need…”

She cursed as the first tears touched her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and before she could escape, he pulled her into an embrace. It startled her and she stumbled into him as he hugged her stiff body tightly with strong, comforting arms. “I’m a dumb ass.”

She sank into the hug, with a half chuckle, half sob. It was nice. This was the nice guy that she needed right now. Not the fuck buddy, or the boyfriend, and especially not the idiot.

But the friend. That’s what she needed.

“Yes,” she said. It came out as a mumble, and a choked one at that. She sniffled into his shoulder and felt her own loosen as the tightly coiled feelings she held close to her chest came out onto his shirt. “You are.”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

It was 4:00 a.m. Early to most, but for Arizona, the blaring of the alarm clock wasn't a hardship. It was a delight to wake up refreshed each and every day. To arise with adorable bed hair against her comfy, rose pink silk sheets. To greet each day with a smile and a poached egg on the side.

To beat that arrogant, piece of crap, Sun, at its own game.

Ah, there was no better feeling...

Usually, anyway...

Because today was _not_ one of her usual days.

The dull throb behind her eyes told her that she'd made a mistake by indulging in a smoky whiskey from her private collection last night. And it wasn't just two fingers worth like she'd planned. With two fingers, she really wouldn't feel like this. But it hadn't been just two, now had it? It couldn't even have been three. Oh no, that would have been too reasonable! It had to have been at least six fingers worth, satanic and possessive, and though it went down smoothly like any sin after that initial, burning sip, the whiskey was still stronger than her usual glass of white Bordeaux that she daintily sipped in the evenings, like a prissy little fairy princess!

"God," she moaned.

Yeah. That six was a rough guess.

But she had to suck it up and deal with the consequences. That seemed to be her life as of late, so why not pile some more on?

Flouncing in the middle of her comfy bed, she leapt to attention and threw herself over to her nightstand to silence the screaming with a lazy brush of her finger.

Triumphant, a slow smile crossed her lips in her dark bedroom.

She stretched languidly, like a tigress, arching her back and touching the headboard. Then she loosened her limbs and shook them all over the bed.

She was tempted to close her eyes again. Oh, it was _so_ tempting. And how easy it would be...

But the last vestiges of sleep left her fogged head, and her eyes shot open.

This _really_ wasn't any typical day. Not because of her drinking, but there was a reason her alarm clock sounded at this hour. It was for special cause that had nothing to do with surgery. In fact, she'd taken the day.

She kicked her feet in giddy excitement, heels thumping up and down on the bed. Then she squealed in the silent room. A real, girlish squeal that would embarrass her if others had been in earshot. A squeal to put even April's shrill yelp to shame. It was a bit dramatic.

But whatever.

She sprang from the bed and flew in the bathroom, clothes tossed everywhere behind her as she went.

Her shower hit her in warm stings. With every drop that touched her skin, and as the smell of her citrusy conditioner opened her senses, she became more and more awake. Alert. And aware. She paused mid scrub, her arm awkwardly in the air as she lathered her armpit with vanilla body wash. The events from last night were coming to her now, and even as the conditioner trickled to her eyes, her focus was directed elsewhere.

She didn't have to second guess the memories. Last night's memories. They were unmistakably real and not a dream.

And something was definitely off.

Lauren.

They had talked last night, but Arizona had still awakened alone. Lauren was supposed to be here. She had promised to come over for cuddles.

Between the drink and the late hour, Arizona must have fallen asleep waiting up for her.

What was she, somebody's grandma? Gosh...

Frowning, she fumbled to rinse and hopped out, shivering in the cool air that hit her slick skin. She snatched her towel and jammed her toothbrush in her mouth, then dashed back into her bedroom still soaking wet, her hair dripping as she kicked her pajamas out of the way with her feet.

It was a miracle she didn't bust her butt.

Rounding the bed, she snagged up her phone and sat on the edge of the mattress, chewing on her bristles.

It wasn't like her fiancée to skip out on their plans without notice. If anything, Arizona would be the most likely to offend in that way. Type A though she was called, she couldn't hold a candle to her betrothed.

Wiping water from her stinging eyes, she glanced at her phone screen. A picture of her and Lauren on the night of her proposal was always visible on the home screen, even when she tapped it to awaken it...

She found that Lauren had left her a voicemail at least, and her teeth relinquished their insistent gnawing.

For a minute there, she thought that something awful had happened to Lauren. Something more serious than whole milk in her latte, of course. Arizona gagged on the brush and clapped her hand over her mouth as a hideous giggle bubbled up in her throat. After sprinting to the bathroom and back, she let the sound erupt and traumatize the surrounding air. A sound that Goofy himself would scowl at.

Her sparkly grin faded as a more solemn one took its place. 

Yes.

At least there was a message.

Her second thought was that Lauren was in another... _mood_ towards her, and the last thing Arizona wanted to deal with was Lauren's dark mood.

It's been over a month, and Arizona was still on eggshells. She had hunched shoulders that hurt when she massaged them. Her neck ached more during surgery. She spaced out more when an intern asked her something. And she found herself at Lauren's beck and call, doing anything and everything to smooth things out between them. The doghouse was no joke, and it had made her tense.

Which was why Arizona had forgone her usual angelic drink for something more...fitting for her situation. Lauren had been scheduled to come over last night. That had skyrocketed her nerves to a universal level, one that spanned not just her shoulders, neck, and scraped toes, but inside to encompass her very bubbly soul.

She'd been anxious to her core...

Everybody had one, a dark side. Or a bad mood. Or an alter ego. A side that wasn't shown often. Regardless of what it was called though, this wasn't a porn habit of questionable tastes. It wasn't even an indulgence in nose nuggets from time to time.

Arizona shuddered at both scenarios and counted herself lucky. Considering.

Lauren's dark side wasn't as extreme, but it was still no less out of character than her usual self. It took her current personality and multiplied it times...well, six.

She became something so disturbing. Something that was petulant, and spoiled, and stubborn.

Something that Arizona, the Head of Peds, had no experience in dealing with.

And if she was being completely real with herself, all of it was also scary as hell.

Not knowing which version of her fiancee she would hear, Arizona gulped and played the voicemail on speaker while she got ready.

_"Hi, Zoey."_

Lauren's voice was calm and honeyed, her usual self. Toweling off, Arizona heaved a sigh.

_"I hope you are over your little spell."_

Lauren paused then sighed deeply.

_"I don't know what to say, Zoey. About...um. Your sudden revelation. I...I need time to process. I trust you will respect my wishes."_

"What?" Arizona said, her brow creasing. What in blazes was she talking about? Sudden revelation? What the hell?

_"And I do apologize for canceling our plans, of course. But something more immediate has been brought to my attention. I'm flying in to New York on the red eye. The mayor's daughter is having a surgery, you see. It is very high profile and I simply must be there. I'll fill you in on the details in the evening. Simply inconceivable! A face like that on a little girl? How tragic!"_

She tittered. Then there was a brief pause.

_"But in all seriousness, I think it's in our best interest to have a couple of days apart to reflect on our recent...behaviors. Would you not agree? Oh! And please bring Priscilla III to her ten o'clock. I would have rescheduled and taken her with me, but you do know how much she loathes confined spaces."_

Lauren chuckled and then sighed.

_"So be it. She is also in dire need to see the groomer, and her munchies need to be refilled for the weekend. I've emailed you her itinerary. She's with Gram now, so she should be fine until you get there. Please don't keep her waiting. They are expecting to hear from you. Well, I'm off! Wish me luck?"_

The message ended.

Arizona shook her head. Oh, Lauren. Of course her fiancee would fly to New York in the middle of the night to watch a surgery. It was just like her. At least Arizona hoped it was just about the surgery and not avoidance on Lauren's part because of her.

"No!" She firmly shook her head, then vigorously resumed toweling it. "Don't do that."

She couldn't beat herself up for no reason. Her fiancée had so many idiosyncrasies that Arizona should just chalk it up to that. She shouldn't worry about any "spells" or "behaviors." She hadn't done anything to warrant more coldness. She'd been on her best behavior since that whole unpleasantness last month...

Anyway, the most likely cause for Lauren's comments was probably external. Something dealing with the flight booking or her driver. Yep. It had nothing to do with her and Arizona wouldn't worry about it and spoil her perfect day.

She paused mid bra clasp. "Damn it, Lauren..." Her day just got more complicated, she realized as she mentally went over the message. Arizona didn't particularly dislike dogs, but Priscilla III, Lauren's nine year old Chihuahua, didn't like her. Despite Lauren insisting otherwise.

Well, at least she had a few hours to mentally prepare for Priscilla the Third's reign...

She'd just finished dressing and pouring herself a coffee when her Skype rang on her laptop.

Gasping, she hurried to her coffee table and pressed a button. Moments later, a chiseled version of herself, with a five o'clock shadow and a high and tight, popped up on the screen. He looked about like how she felt on her usual mornings: Warm. Alert. And ready for the day, even though it was 8:00 p.m. in Okinawa.

"First Lieutenant," Arizona greeted with a cheeky smile.

"Dr. Lauren Boswell," Tim greeted back.

Arizona's smile faded into a scowl. "Don't do that."

A hearty laugh came through the speakers as Tim threw his head back against his couch. "Aw, come on," he said when she didn't laugh. "That was funny."

Because of their father, it was an ongoing joke for them to address each other based on rank. And now, Tim insisted on changing her "Doctor Robbins" to Lauren's full name. Not just the surname. Not a hyphenated union of both of their names. Just full on "Dr. Lauren Boswell." It was unsettling and he knew it.

Shaking her head, she mirrored him, sitting cross legged in front of her couch. "Don't be an ass. It's too early for that."

"Not for me," he said, holding up a bottle of Kirin Lager for her to see. "How is the good doc?"

"She's great!" Arizona squeaked. She cleared her throat and took a sip of syrupy coffee. "Actually, she's in New York right now. There's a big craniofacial surgery that she wanted to see, so she's excited about it."

"Facial deformities...how exciting..."

Arizona rolled her eyes. "Actually, _Lieutenant_ , it's a pretty interesting specialty. And even if it wasn't, it's _her_ thing. So don't criticize it. Nobody says anything about your collection of anime socks, now do they? So-"

"Arizona," Tim interrupted. "Damn girl, I'm fucking around." He touched his chest. "That's a low blow!"

"I know..." She murmured, ducking her head to hide her flushed cheeks. Gosh, what was wrong with her? She hadn't spoken to her brother in over two weeks. Had been looking forward to their conversation. And the minute they start their conversation, she's a grouch?

Tim studied her for a long moment. "Is this about something else? You're not mad at me, are you?"

Arizona blinked. "What?"

"I mean..." Tim scratched his neck. "I missed your big party. I wanted to be there and meet this Dr. Boswell, face to face. But-"

"Tim, I know," Arizona said with a huff. "Gosh, I'm sorry. I'm not mad at you, and I'm not blaming you for not coming. It's okay. Really. I just...I had a late surgery and I didn't get much sleep," she lied.

"Gotcha." He nodded and took a swig of his beer. "I can't wait to meet her, you know. Your party would've been perfect. You don't know dick about somebody 'til you get 'em liquored up. Besides, I know how beautiful the weather is there this time of year."

Arizona chuckled. Seattle in April was like anywhere else. Just more unpredictably drizzly and gray.

"Yeah, you really missed out," she said with false cheer.

She hated to admit it, but she really had no idea how the night had _actually_ been. Even so, she pretended otherwise. Depending on whom it was that spoke to her about it, the party had been both a hit and a miss.

"It's still being talked about," she sing-songed with a smile.

That much wasn't a lie at least. Her engagement party was all her friends had talked about since, calling her the life of the party. Every time she heard that, Arizona had smiled uncomfortably and agreed with them that the party had been a hit. On the other hand, Lauren and Priscilla, Lauren's grandmother not the dog, had been weird towards her ever since that night. Both had made remarks about her friends. Priscilla had went on and on until Arizona was almost as wiry as she was, talking about doomed suspension systems and getting an eyeful of something sour.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

And Lauren?

She was another story altogether.

Arizona must've been making a face because Tim called her on it.

"Oh shit," he said. "I know that look. What happened?"

"Nothing, Tim," she said. 

"Bullshit."

"Just work stuff, dude. Let it go. You know how it goes..." Arizona bit her lip. "It's not like I can talk about it anyway. Not unless I wanna keep operating..."

"Oh." Tim nodded. "Gotcha."

She hated lying. She really did. And she hated that it had to be to her brother. Arizona could once talk freely with him about anything. He was her twin, and there was a time they they had shared everything. But she couldn't speak up when it came to this. This wasn't a discussion about her earlier couplings from high school and college, or even med school for that matter. This wasn't casual conversation over coffee and beer. Lauren was forever. If Arizona's loved ones knew of her inner turmoil, it would make things weird and probably strain Lauren's relationship with them.

Arizona would just have to suck it up and deal with it by herself.

After all, she'd gotten herself into the dog house in the first place. She'd just have to keep trying to dig her way out of it...

* * *

**_One month ago. The day after the engagement party..._**

A relaxing drive. And food. Can't forget food. Deliciously, artery clogging food...

That's what she needed right now and it was all she could manage to focus on with how miserable she felt.

She was _never_ drinking again.

_Ever._

Arizona had wanted to spend the entire day in bed, but after waking up confused with several missed attempts of communication on her phone, the majority of which had been from Lauren, sleeping in wasn't an option.

Instead of being angry though, Lauren had shown up at her condo, surprising her with an invitation to one of her favorite dives; a shabby little establishment that Lauren wouldn't be caught dead in. But Arizona loved it and it pleased her to have Lauren be so thoughtful. Despite her distaste for the restaurant's amenities, Lauren had shown up, wearing a snug Oscar de la Renta dress with a banana bag stuffed in her oversized purse. A bright smile was on her face as she air kissed her greeting. She was "over the moon" that Arizona was finally awake so that she could tag along with her and help with the redecorating.

Like Arizona had promised she would.

This was news to Arizona though, but Lauren suggested they do it while they ate. At her favorite place, even. Dutiful as ever, Arizona had shrugged and agreed.

The remedy had helped a little, so now she could at least manage to drive. Yes, she was cruising now. Having a nice, pleasant little drive with her fiancee by her side to keep her company as they headed to one of her favorite restaurants for a big ass, mouth watering, gut expanding bacon cheeseburger with grilled onion and extra special sauce.

But just as Arizona had fully relaxed behind the wheel, Lauren's smile became unsettling.

And Arizona knew a little too late that it had all been a trap.

"I don't like her, as you very well know," Lauren said. Starting off just like that. "She shouldn't have come last night. I do not _like_ her."

"Who?" Arizona asked, innocently. "Teddy?"

"No, not her. She's... tolerable, I suppose. Albeit, she's rough around the edges and a tad gangly for a woman." Scowling, Lauren added, "But I suppose we can't all be tall, dark, and handsome. Right, Zoey?"

Arizona cleared her throat. "Um...sure. I guess. What-"

"Which one?" Lauren interrupted sweetly, eyes burning in the side of her face, searing it pink. "For the guest room," she said. She waited until Arizona could safely glance from the road to give her phone a quick look.

"Hmm...I like the left one," Arizona said, cautiously. She shifted in her seat and squinted harder at the road, the temperature from the other seat palpable in its ferocity. "The red one. It's a beautiful color..."

"Not surprising," Lauren muttered, jabbing at her screen with her finger. "Hmph. Of course you would prefer the _red_ anything."

Arizona suppressed a groan as the _tap, tap, taps_ grew so noisy that she worried for the screen's wellbeing. After almost a year of being together, Lauren's fits were still not her most favorite thing. She could beat around the bush forever. She should just rip the darn bandaid off and get it over with.

"Which one?" Lauren asked her again.

Biting her lip, Arizona slowed behind a dark green Jeep with dried mud crusted on it as the light turned red. The two men in the jeep were blaring some god awful country song about some guy who got his heart broken at a trailer park. The whole song was about him drinking and making terrible decisions, wrecking the poor woman's car for crying out loud. Some people shouldn't drink. She couldn't laugh at her own comment. Instead, she winced and her stomach roiled in protest at the thought of anything alcohol related. Not even "hair of the dog," as The Lieutenant swore by.

She tapped her thumb on the wheel. This stretch of road had traffic lights that weren't in sync with one another. Arizona didn't enjoy stopping and going as much as this route required. She was used to things going much more smoothly.

Predictably.

A throat cleared. Sighing, Arizona turned her attention back over to Lauren's phone.

"What's wrong?" Lauren asked, much too sweetly for it to be genuine. "It's not a whipple, Zoey. It's leather."

Nice leather too, Arizona had to admit. Though judging by both options of living room furniture, it was clear that one was more appealing than the other. The same was true for the pictures of the curtains she'd judged. And that aside, what was wrong with Lauren's current decor? Especially the furniture. Everything was so modern and chic. So why…

"That one," Arizona said, nodding. "The left one. It looks very, um...comfy."

"Oh." Lauren blinked and then frowned at the pictures. "Is that why you chose it? Not because it's red, but because it's plus sized?"

"Oh my God," Arizona breathed. She was grateful though that the light turned green to give her something to do again. She was equally grateful that the hee hawing in front of her made a left turn. "Lauren, what-"

"Which. One?" Lauren asked yet again. Her voice was clipped this time as if she was giving up all pretense of civility.

Arizona pressed more firmly on the gas pedal. Yeah...she needed to put a rush on this ETA before one of them caused an accident. They couldn't talk like _this_ while she was driving. Refusing to stop again, she sped the Rover through the yellow light and readied to look back over at Lauren. But when she did, what she saw weren't pictures of curtains again. Nor that of luxury sectionals.

Mouth open, she stared at the phone, taking in all of the troubling detail. Looking a second too long while Lauren studied her face for a reaction.

She veered in the opposite lane and her steering wheel vibrated in warning.

"Oh shoot!"

Arizona jerked the Rover back in the right lane, swerving from left to right as she tried to steady them, the steering wheel vibrating every time she crossed the line, her panicked heart thudding in her chest and mouth swallowing convulsively. She finally regained control, flitting her eyes about her rear view mirrors for spectators.

What in the Sam Hill?!

Cursing more softly, she lowered her speed, her forehead beading with sweat. Hands at ten and two, massaging the wood grain with comforting pets, Arizona felt her neck prickle with cold sweat, too. And she really didn't want to look beside her anymore.

But that would be childish, and would surely cause a bigger scene.

She let the silence stretch for a moment longer while she calmed both herself and her baby, Liv, down. Then she whispered an apology, to Lauren this time not the SUV, and looked over to gauge the former's reaction.

Lauren hadn't jostled from her previous position. Not one single inch. She sat ramrod straight against the leather, still holding her phone sideways so that Arizona could see it. Her jaw flexing. Nostrils flaring. And though she wasn't smiling, there was an excited gleam in her eye. As if she had somehow caused the reckless endangerment with nothing more than the intensity of her stare.

As if she got off on it.

Arizona shivered.

"Which one?" Lauren asked again.

There was no need to see the phone a second time. One shock had been more than enough.

On Lauren's battered phone, there was a collage of four of Arizona's friends from last night: Callie, Teddy, April, and Addison. Each had a letter scrawled above their heads: A, B, C, and D, respectively. The pictures had been downloaded from Seattle Grace's website. Needless to say, they were all donning sparkling and welcoming smiles, proudly representing the fine city of Seattle and the whole of the Washington state area. One look at their warm, genuine smiles would have anyone trusting a loved one in their care.

Their heads had been cut out and fixed to one another with surgical staples. Holes, Arizona guessed from a hole puncher, had been pushed through random areas of their foreheads, and their cheeks, and their eyes. And then those holes were threaded with stringy, red twine to make jagged lines that weaved throughout the photos to resemble angry scars on smooth skin. The background for all of this was a piece of blood red construction paper, on which Lauren had signed her name in gold glitter glue at the bottom, just below Addison's scarred chin. She had penned the word in beautiful and loopy cursive lettering, a stark contrast to the rest of the artwork.

It was absolutely the most disturbing visual image she'd seen in her life so far.

Now, Arizona was a pediatric surgeon, and it went without saying that she'd seen her share of horrific sights throughout the years.

But out of all those equally jarring images, none of the artwork by her tiny humans had almost killed her...

"I uh…" Arizona swallowed. "I don't understand the ques-"

"Which. Friend. Do I. Not. Like?"

"April?" Arizona squeaked. "I thought you liked her? Oh! You know what I like? Soufflés! Let's make some tonight! How's that sound, my sweet?"

Lauren gave her a look that said Arizona knew full well which of her friends she was talking about and that her attempts at avoidance weren't working. Which she was. Avoiding, that is. Since Lauren had started this conversation, Arizona had a feeling what she was getting at.

Gosh, at times like these, when Lauren's insecurities came out, Arizona wished she'd never told her some things and kept some of her feelings closer to her chest. Just because they were together didn't mean that Lauren had to know absolutely _everything._ Especially when Arizona had opened her private thoughts up to her, just for them to be blatantly put on display. Thrown back in her face like confetti.

It made her feel exposed and it wasn't right.

"The answer is 'A'," Lauren corrected. "The one on the left. Again."

"Of course it is," Arizona drawled, giving up.

It was no use avoiding it anymore. She'd known when she invited Callie that there would be a problem. It just so happened that now, she and Lauren were alone to talk about it, whereas they had been surrounded by people last night.

So now, they would talk. Under the false pretense of getting a burger, of course. Because God forbid Lauren come right out with it without the dramatics.

"This. Uncouth. One." Lauren punctuated the words with a smile and a jab to Callie's face. "...Rude. One. Right. Here."

Using her thumbs, she zoomed in until Callie's punctured nose and brilliant teeth covered the entirety of the defenseless screen, and jabbed one last time on her curved upper lip.

"This one," she hissed. "Callie, as she _insists_ that I call her. I don't understand it. I've been willing to look past the fact that I don't know your other friends well. I realize these things can't be rushed and must happen naturally. I've tried to trust that I will establish a professional tie with them in time, and eventually, I'll grow close enough to the point where we can build our existing relationships into something more personal. I've been focused on building our dream life. For you, Zoey."

She jabbed the phone again, her finger shifting the image to poke into Callie's huge, glinting eye. "But her? She doesn't fit into the plan, as you very well know." Lauren pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sometimes, I think that you deliberately ignore my wishes and do as you please because...because you don't respect me!"

Arizona's jaw hung open for the second time during this pleasant little cruise. She blinked several times.

"Wow," she breathed, shaking her head.

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, and she flicked Liv's turn signal with more force than necessary. She was but a few years older than Lauren's twenty-six, but sometimes, mentally, she felt way older.

Or maybe it was just her fiancée's way of thinking was much younger.

Either way, there was a difference there. A noticeable one.

"If you feel I don't respect you, then why did you propose?" Arizona mumbled, her stomach clenching. "Why would you wanna build anything with somebody like that?"

Lauren's face softened. She drew a deep breath and made to touch Arizona's stiff arm, but paused and kept her hand to herself.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean it to sound that way." Lauren smoothed invisible wrinkles from her dress, her eyes on her lap. "...You know how I absolutely abhor feeling embarrassed. And it...it troubles me that you were the one to do it."

Arizona shot her a quick look. "How did I embarrass you?"

"And what worries me most," Lauren continued, "is you behave as if everything is fine. You see no harm in insulting me."

Arizona pursed her lips. "Are you going to tell me what I did? Or-"

"You extended her an invite when I explicitly forbade it!" Lauren snapped. "I told you who could attend. And were you not agreeable?"

"I said I didn't want to haggle on the invites." Arizona glided smoothly into the restaurant's gravelly parking lot. "I didn't want to argue, so I told you to invite whoever you wanted."

"And so I did."

Arizona parked a good distance from the other cars, unclicked her stifling seatbelt, and sat on her leg, facing her. "Lauren, I thought you would invite your family and friends, not send for every dusty fossil the medical community has to offer. God, half of those people last night were retired."

Lauren scoffed. "Not half!"

"Near enough."

Gosh, it was true. Lauren took being driven to new heights. She wanted to impress the more esteemed surgeons at her hospital. Arizona had frowned at the invite when she first saw it and realized her party would feel more like a work function, or a wake, than a relaxing gathering.

But Lauren had made some good points about strengthening her contacts over a stiff drink. So Arizona had went along with it because these things mattered so strongly to Lauren. Once upon a time, Arizona had been an overzealous resident herself, taking on more than she could handle and working tirelessly to hone her skill to garner the respect that she wanted. She'd been there, done that. So she could understand how anxious Lauren must feel to make a name for herself.

"You knew how much this event meant to me," Lauren said, unclicking her own seat belt. "And you still invited her."

"She's my friend and besides that-"

"I asked you not to, Zoey!"

"Please!" Arizona flailed her hands. "Can you let me talk?!"

She was becoming defensive, but she couldn't help it. She felt like crap and it wasn't just because of her hangover. Arizona also felt guilty.

Technically, she wasn't guilty of anything but impure thoughts, but that was enough to make this situation more uncomfortable than it needed to be. Her mind scrambled for an answer to appease Lauren. She took a breath and settled on the truth.

"Look, I invited her because I felt her feelings would be hurt if I didn't. But," she added louder when Lauren tried to interrupt again. "I was looking out for you, too. How would that look if her boyfriend was invited, but she wasn't? Come on, now. You talk about professionalism, and that wasn't the right move. You invited every surgeon at your hospital and some from mine. All of my friends were invited, except her. How would that have looked?"

Lauren tongued her cheek.

"What would've happened if she didn't come?" Arizona asked again. "And if you had ostracized her…"

She stopped short of telling her that none of her friends would like her and they were petty enough to make Lauren's job difficult. No matter the hospital. And Arizona didn't want that. She wanted all of her friends to like Lauren and to see the person that she was to marry for who she was inside. Not judge her solely on her personality, or her upbringing, or even her petulant tendencies. She could rub people the wrong way because they didn't understand her sharp tongue. Arizona could appreciate it. When it wasn't directed at her, of course. It was a quirk to get used to.

"And she's my friend," she said again in a softer voice. "I couldn't _not_ invite her…"

"You could have. You chose not to."

A couple strolled past the SUV, their little girl between them, excitedly trying to pull them both to the dive's entrance. Lauren made a snort of disgust, then promptly locked the door.

"I will never understand why one must venture in public without being at least an eight. A seven, at least, considering she has a child. I can understand the makeup as well, but it seems she did not spare a glance in the mirror. And the flip flops? In _this_ parking lot?" Lauren laughed. It was so sudden and delightful that Arizona didn't recognize it. Then it became a bitter, spine tingling sound. She gave Arizona a friendly pat on her arm. "You should consider telling your friend that as well."

Arizona blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Did you not see her dress? Callie's? She wore it in a manner that was both tasteless and trashy. A woman her size should know to take care what she wears. I will admit that the dress itself was striking. A lame eye could tell that it was the new Louis Vuitton, which was a shock, mind you. I certainly didn't consider her well versed in anything but Macy's." She hummed in thought. "Pity. That gorgeous dress was not intended for such a wide back. And those boots? Tragic. Ruined the entire ensemble."

"So you didn't like that she showed some skin and wore boots?" Arizona grumbled.

Lauren gave her a look. "If it were only that fashion disaster, we wouldn't be having this conversation, now would we? She doesn't respect our relationship. She not only shows up uninvited-"

"She _was_ invited-"

"But she _completely_ disregards the appropriate attire-"

"Oh, come on," Arizona said. "Nobody dressed appropriately. Your guests included."

"Well, that was to be expected," Lauren muttered. "But no one openly mocked the dress code either. She didn't even try. Or are you a fan of whatever look she thought she was pulling off? Broody and boorish. And oBese since we're on B's.."

"Lauren!" Arizona's eyes widened, and she leaned away from her into her door. "Are you serious right now?"

"Defensive?"

"Yes! I am!"

"Hmph. How surprising. I'd hardly noticed..."

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, Arizona said, "She's my friend, Lauren."

"And I am your fiancée." Lauren's lips thinned. "Answer the question, Zoey. Are you an admirer?"

"You're being ridiculous." Arizona massaged her temple. "I'm not answering that."

"So you didn't see an issue with her behavior...Good to know."

Arizona was two seconds away from beating her head back into the driver's seat window.

Lauren studied the building's crooked "Open" sign on the door. She gave a careless shrug. "Never mind my feelings. I am only the woman with whom you intend to spend the rest of your life with."

"Lauren, come on!" This was becoming exhausting. "What do you want me to say?"

"I shouldn't have to tell you, Zoey. If I say a person is detrimental to my health, it is your duty as my wife to cut the poison out. It shouldn't even be a question of 'why' or 'how come.' But 'when and where, Lauren. I promise to get it done.' That is what you should say. Instead of loyalty, all I'm offered is, 'Don't be mad but Callie's here,' ten seconds before she stomps into my home and mucks up the floor."

"Oh my God!" Arizona chuckled but it was mirthless. Instead, it was an exasperated laugh to the roof of the SUV. Praying to whatever deity that was listening to cut her a damn break.

But when her eyes were back on the building, she chewed her lip in a nervous tic. Inside, she was uncomfortable, and a sense of shame made her face hot. Irritating as this conversation was, Lauren wasn't entirely wrong. Call it female intuition or deeply rooted insecurity. Either way, her feelings had some merit.

The thing was...Arizona had a major crush on Callie. A crush she had told Lauren about when they were dating. A crush that she had also told Lauren was no more. But truthfully, she'd never been able to shake it. And she'd tried to shake it, she really did. Even to this day.

But the crush was a stubborn, persistent ache. It was still alive and doing quite well, burning within her. Manifesting into her desires and fantasies.

There was nothing wrong with it. Anyone could have an innocent crush or sexual fantasies about someone other than their partner. It didn't mean anything needed to come of it. And it certainly wouldn't! Arizona was engaged to a wonderful and ambitious woman. All of these desires were just normal human attraction. It wasn't like she was cheating or something. She could have her thoughts. She couldn't help them and she shouldn't feel ashamed for having them.

She wouldn't be shamed.

She scratched her neck. "I thought we were past this whole thing with her?"

"And the fact that you fancy her is simply, what?"

"In the past," Arizona lied. "And I wouldn't call it 'fancying her.' I had a baby little crush, Lauren. You have your 'infatuations,' as you call them. Even now. But I don't feel threatened by them. I don't get up in arms about every woman you feel attracted to. I'm too old for that crap. I'm secure in our relationship and I trust you."

Lauren seemed to ponder this. "Very well. I can accept that."

Arizona sighed. Thank goodness the Trust Card trumped the Fiancée Card and put an end to this uncomfortable squabble.

Now, where were they?

Right, there was a greasy burger calling her name.

With renewed giddiness, she playfully patted Lauren's thigh and reached for the door handle, but Lauren brushed her arm to stop her.

When she gave her a questioning look, Lauren shook her head. "What I mean is that I can accept that that's how you feel. Your intentions may very well be well placed. But that doesn't change how things really are. I wish that were the case, and I wish could simply ignore how I feel for the sake of just your intentions.

"This is not in my head. Last night..." Lauren wet her lips. "You were an entirely different person. I didn't know what to make of it. The last I saw of you, you were dancing with her." Lauren scrunched her nose. "No, that wasn't dancing. That was...animalistic and disgusting. She was all but forcing your face in her cleavage, Zoey. She had you in her clutches, and you weren't especially trying to escape, now were you? How nice it must have been to laugh with her and all of your friends while I was entertaining? And if I wasn't feeling embarrassed enough, you left my side to go and fraternize with her in the basement! I didn't see you for the remainder of the evening!"

She pointed outside the window to nowhere in particular. "You left me to tend to our guests alone! Do you know how _infuriating_ it was to make excuses for your absence?! At our own party?!"

At this revelation, Arizona's annoyance faded and her hand fell away from the handle to rest limply on her leg. Lunch didn't seem appetizing at all anymore. If anything, the fattening ball of beef, slabs of crispy pork, and gooey cheese would sit heavily on her stomach, not aiding her hangover in the slightest.

So the dancing and the basement...

That part of her dream...

It had in fact actually happened?

_Oh god!_

_Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god!! Don't tell me I..._

Arizona felt a knot well up in her throat and she prayed she didn't hurl on Liv, who'd been through enough today already. From the threats of bodily harm, to enduring a soap opera. Arizona hoped she didn't keel over and defile her precious baby even more.

"Now, I don't mean to be unpleasant," Lauren continued. "But I can't ignore the facts either. I deserve answers. She hijacked our special day, and instead of handling the situation, you contributed. Handsomely, I might add! Then you skipped off without so much as a goodbye!"

Lauren's words sat in the still car and she was quiet for a long moment. Arizona knew the question that was coming. It was the one she had no idea how to answer.

Finally, Lauren said it...

"Arizona, why did you leave last night? What happened?"

Arizona swallowed the knot with difficulty and a second one immediately rose to take its place.

She really had no idea how she wound up at home instead of staying at Lauren's. Nor did she know why she went there in the first place. Everything was all messed up in her head. All she knew for certain was that one minute, Callie was kicking her ass and shoving a bottle of bourbon in her hand, and the next thing Arizona knew, she was waking up in her own bed this morning. She had been naked with a mouth that felt like cotton, with her skull splitting and dubious memories of what _could have_ been the events from the party bouncing around her head. But she couldn't say one way or another what was real and what wasn't. Her recollections of events were hazy at best and filled with gaps at worst. And they were so crazy that she had written them off as a dream before now. Or more accurately, as another fantasy. She couldn't believe it for the most part because it had been so unlike herself.

A complete 360 from her usual self. But that would be ridiculous.

_Her? An adulteress?_

She couldn't have. It had to be in her head.

But dream or not, there was no way she could tell Lauren any of it. There was a line between sharing is caring versus over sharing that could lead to someone getting hurt.

She didn't know what to say. No lie would come. Not even another one to spare Lauren's feelings.

So Arizona said nothing.

And instead, looked away...

* * *

**_Present day..._ **

It was official. Her day was ruined. And she hadn't even picked up Priscilla III yet...

Arizona resigned herself to resuming her chat with Tim another day when they both had some time. She just couldn't right now, not with his big, blue eyes staring at her with wrinkles etched between them. He knew her too well and the longer she stayed on lying to him, the more likely it was that he would call her out on it. She said her goodbye and slapped the laptop closed, staring morosely at her cold cup of joe.

If she were honest with herself, she couldn't vent to anybody. Especially not to him. Lauren wasn't doing anything wrong. All Lauren was doing was finding a way to put the party behind her and move forward with their relationship. That meant Arizona got the cold treatment every once in awhile. She deserved it and she didn't blame Lauren for anything. Sure, Lauren had her quirks. She was vain and overly ambitious and she voiced her opinion in a way that could make others feel like she was insulting them. But Arizona knew all of that when she agreed to marry her. She could not fault her for being herself.

Her problem was that all of Lauren's quirks spoke to how deeply her insecurities ran. And that made Arizona feel like an asshole for not working harder to ease them. In fact, by not distancing herself from somebody who she clearly had interest in, Arizona could be blamed in part for Lauren's insecurities. And that made her feel like the crappiest person in existence. All of this was her fault. If she had just not invited Callie, her relationship with Lauren would still be steady. It would've been hard to see those pretty, brown eyes dim with sadness, but if Arizona had talked it over with her, she was sure Callie would've understood.

Instead of not wanting to disappoint anybody, she ended up throwing a wrench in not just her own life, but Callie's as well. Not just her own relationship, but Callie's as well. Not just her at fault, but if her memory of that night could be trusted, then Callie had been to blame as well. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it was all real. She had, they both had...

Been unfaithful.

So she'd done the only thing she knew to do.

In the parking lot at one of her favorite places in this fine city of Seattle...

As she'd watched the woman in flip flops reemerge with a waddle, her partner carrying a sleeping child...

As she looked from them to Lauren's oblivious eyes, Arizona had decided that the only way to ease her guilt and make things better for everyone was to stop talking to Callie.

And so she had...

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. I fill in the gaps.
> 
> fjot


	3. Chapter 3

Callie didn't want to get up.

For the third day in a row, she lay in bed, no doubt singeing the spread with her grossness, which consisted of a vile concoction of sweat, tears, and hoisin sauce. She had yet to put water to her skin in any capacity other than a routine hand wash. Even that wasn't saying much. The only reason she did that was because of habit more than a cognitive effort on her part.

She would wash her hands.

She didn't know the exact number of times she'd taken a necessary trip to her en-suite, but if she had to guess, Callie would say that she didn't go as much as she should have been going. What, seven? Eight, at the most? She frowned. Eight trips to the bathroom in three days...Even as a surgeon, there were limits to potty training. She squeezed her thighs together.

She was close to pushing those limits now.

Still, even at these moments, where she had been two seconds away from lying in her own urine, Callie hadn't hustled to relieve herself. Each time, she had moved like a drone across the room, stepped over the test in the doorway, and bypassed the shower for the other facilities.

After her visits to the toilet, she had turned the faucet on cold and let the stream flow in the sink. She had stared at her reflection. At her lackluster eyes and frayed ropes of jet black hair. At the breakout that had moved in on her chin, just beneath her chapped lips. And then down at the counter. At the two other pregnancy tests that Mark had ran out and bought. At their positive indicators. At her bubbly hands that were too clean. Hands that were scrubbed raw, having been washed, rinsed, and repeated for however long it was that she had spaced out again.

Each time, she had returned to her chilly room and lain under the covers. And she had listened as Mark lived his best life around the apartment. Listening to the occasional raucous laughter or the sound effects of an explosion on the TV. Hearing him make things: Making coffee. Making work related calls. And more recently, making plans for drinks tomorrow with Derek.

"If I'm not doing anything with Torres," he had said.

But of course he wasn't. She wasn't even doing anything herself. He could live. Honestly, he didn't need to be here at all, but here he was, filling up her territory like an invasion upon her soil.

Yes. She'd taken three sick days, and he insisted on tagging along because apparently, he wasn't feeling up to working either. Apparently, they both had the same cold. In May, no less. Go figure. In fact, this cold? Callie had caught it from him. Who the hell did he think he was? Occupying her living room? Dumping his belongings all over her space? He had his own property. Why couldn't he just keep his _things_ where they belonged?!

Eight times, she'd lain there. She had let his life drift in and occupy the quiet bedroom because apparently, her uterus hadn't been enough! She'd done this until her eyes became sick of her shit and closed again.

Damn, Callie really didn't want to get up.

She should just put on a diaper and let whatever it was that would happen just come!

But now, it grew too painful to hold it in. Groaning, she flipped off the spread and made the ninth trip before she embarrassed herself.

Afterwards, she shuffled her stiff bones back to her bedroom and flopped back down onto her pillow top mattress. She chugged her bottle of water, tossed it on the floor by the other two, and bundled up once more to sleep.

As soon as her eyes closed, three soft taps sounded on her door and then it opened.

"Cal," Mark whispered. "You up?"

Callie didn't reply. He couldn't see her face, so she evened her breathing and stared at the wall. The room was darkened, thanks to her curtains, but it wasn't nighttime. The barest hint of light was made her surroundings visible, so the Sun was high in the sky.

She could hear him place something on the nightstand. Another bottle of water, probably. She then heard his clothes shuffling and sliding, and cold air hit the back of her thighs as he climbed in under the blanket. Then she was warm again when he closed in tight behind her, his warm hand caressing the goosebumps on her thigh away.

She knew what he was doing and it wasn't warming her up nor settling down to sleep. She'd done the same move herself. Slipping into the bed shirtless and wrapping her arms around him. Placing kisses on his neck to wake him up. Sometimes, taking the more direct approach.

They simply didn't lay and go to sleep together, or cuddle just for the sake of cuddling. Not like normal couples did. If he wasn't going to tell her a bedtime story, then Mark had no other reason to be in her bed. Not even to have a conversation. That was what pillow talk was for.

Even if she hadn't known the move, Callie would've caught on quickly these past three days. Mark had tried to seduce her more times than she could remember. She couldn't fault him for being himself.

It was she who was acting differently.

Callie had an abnormally high libido. She craved sex and got a literal rush from it, even to the point that it numbed her to everything else that was happening. The world could be burning and she wouldn't care. Not while she was in the throes of lust. Where some idiots could go days, weeks, or God forbid, _years_ without it, Callie couldn't. That was the worst punishment she could imagine. It would be akin to going through withdrawals.

Over drinks one night, she'd told Addison that if she had to give up either surgery or sex, then she would hand Webber her resignation without a second thought, choosing a position in the clinic.

And Addison had a good laugh.

"You wouldn't," she'd said, chuckling. "I will admit that you are obsessed. But who would be your replacement? Link? You'd sooner die than to let him take over."

Callie's face had remained impassive though. She'd been dead fucking serious. In the words of her mother, she was a slut with a hard "T." Well, that was an exaggeration. The "T" was Callie's own doing. Much to her mother's dismay, she owned it. 

And she was a picky slut, too.

She had rules and she stood by them...

A wash of hot breath hit her ear.

Well, she usually stood by them.

Mark had been an extenuating circumstance. And a rare gem.

When they were friends, this was what she and Mark did. They had sex, whenever and wherever. And when they became exclusive, nothing about their relationship had changed. They did it even more, defiling this place and that place. So many surfaces...

It was what Callie loved most about being with him. With Mark, it was comfortable, and uncomplicated, and anytime the urge would hit her, bam! He was always willing.

God bless him.

It had been so _frustrating_ before him! Her partners in the past were so irredeemably bland that she'd whipped up her orgasms herself. Sometimes with them still there. Watching her, slack jawed. Whether by anger or arousal, it didn't matter. Her interest would have been nonexistent at that point. She was vocal about the letdowns, too. How would those people learn if no one told them what disappointing lovers they were? She didn't care about hurt feelings or bruised egos. If they couldn't cut it, they had to get the fuck away from her. 

Callie had been in a desperate state of need. She had grown too tense from the lack of herbs and spices.

For a long time, her love life had been flavorless.

In fact, her last disappointment had been so maddening that it led her to break her most important rule:

Never sleep with a friend.

Callie only had two great lovers in her life. The first, she dubbed Clove.

And Mark was Cayenne...

He went from being a loyal friend that she confided in about anything, to a fuck buddy that kept her burning up for more. And finally, to their relationship,

It worked for them. They worked irregular hours where they couldn't spend a lot of time together, but that was what quickies were for. They didn't need conversation. He couldn't talk while his mouth was occupied.

But now, look at her. Just look. Callie was just a dash of salt. Not even pepper was thrown in the mix.

She just laid there.

As he kissed her neck in his attempts to "wake her," Callie _could not believe_ she was doing this again. Feigning sleep so that he would retreat back from whence he came. It was mind blowing that this feeling of annoyance was creeping up within her, seizing her nerves until her temples felt stretched. Irritated as his hands worked underneath her shirt to cup her breast. And the thought of rolling over and fucking his brains out was exhausting.

"Are you asleep?" His facial hair was scratchy on her cheek as he punctuated his words with a squeeze to her breast.

This current state of perpetual annoyance was her fault. If Callie hadn't taken the sick days, then Mark wouldn't have followed suit, stocking the fridge with energy drinks in preparation for a Justice League fuck fest. Normally, that would've been lovely, and would've been the perfect follow up to their movie night on Tuesday.

But, no. Shit hadn't gone that way, now had it?

What had happened instead was that Callie had confined herself to her room.

On Tuesday night, the night she had taken the pregnancy test, Callie had wanted to talk things over with him, She thought they could sit and discuss what the news meant for them over dinner. Clear the air, break some bread, and get over that initial awkwardness between them so they could get comfortable again and spend their time doing something other than talking.

"Alright," Mark had said with an easy grin. "Here. I'll pour us a drink"

She had just taken her first bite of stir fry. Her hand lifting the frosty glass of water to her mouth. A relieved smile on her face. Relieved, because he had been so sweet and comforting to her, like he was before she had jumped in his bed. Reliable and reassuring. Yes, it had been nice. Chewing on the spicy veggies, she'd thought that maybe they could weather this obstacle together. Mark had even taken the initiative in starting the conversation. He had sipped his wine, then met her eye with a delighted grin on his face.

And the first thing he said to her was…

"Sooo…what do you wanna do?"

Her boyfriend was a dumb ass.

Obviously, Mark had meant to ask, "Are we the dessert menu?"

But given the atmosphere and the emotional hug they had shared by the front door, Callie thought he'd been asking if she wanted to go over their options regarding the pregnancy.

Needless to say, her water never made it to her mouth.

He hadn't meant abortion though! Nor adoption! He said so, profusely. His "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" becoming a rapid string of apology, his tone rising in panic as her curses grew more creative. Her beverage riffling down his face, Mark had ducked and dodged flying projectiles all around the kitchen. From broccoli and utensils, to her precious food processor.

She needed a new one anyway.

She'd apologized though. Belatedly. In a fit of sobs until she was just sick of herself. Her legs splayed in a mash of squishy rice and sticky sauce on the kitchen floor.

Just like that, their relationship went from comfortable to complicated AF.

And maybe a bit abusive as well.

It was all so overwhelming.

Emotional, she had then stowed herself away in her bedroom, smearing food drippings on her bed like a fucking slob in her element.

Whereas they didn't need talking as much before, now she couldn't talk to him even a little about this _one thing_. The most important thing in her life.

And although she wished it weren't the case, for once, that thing wasn't sex.

While she had slept, that wrench had been busy unscrewing her sex drive as well.

There was a real problem taking up space inside of her. Punishing her for its conception.

A sharp sting went through her nipple and Callie hissed, jerking away from his pinching fingers. She dropped the facade, reaching under her shirt and flinging his hand away.

Damn, was he seriously not going back in the other room? She still smelled like Tuesday, for fuck's sake. How was that sexy?

"Stop," she said, her voice raspy from nonuse. "I'm not in the mood."

He was still for a moment, then with a sigh, he deflated. She jostled as he pushed himself away from her.

With her own sigh, Callie turned over to face him. But instead of being annoyed, he smiled at her.

"Hey," he said.

Her stomach churned and she reached out to touch his chest. She'd been annoyed by him since he'd been here. That wasn't fair. Idiot though he was at times, he wasn't a bad guy. If he were, she wouldn't be with him, no matter how much her need drove her. Been there, done that with the aforementioned Clove.

"What are you thinking about?" He said.

Callie shook her head and stared at the idle circles she drew around his nipple. It was weird, she decided. Having him in her bed when they weren't doing anything. Laying in the dark and having this heavy atmosphere between them. It was depressing to have a spectator to her misery.

"Did you need something?" She said, reaching over him to switch on the lamp.

He eyed her as she settled back down. "You wanna do lunch? That new sushi place is supposed to be good."

Callie blinked against the sudden light. She knew she looked a mess, but his heated glance warmed her. It was clear he wasn't hungry. "Not right now, no."

He frowned but nodded.

"It's a lot to get used to," he said, cautiously. Then, he let out a slight laugh. "Too late for the vasectomy, huh?"

"Maybe," she said absently.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not right now."

She was still trying to gather her thoughts. It was hard to do that when all she wanted to do was sleep. But they couldn't keep this up. At least he was trying to make an effort. What was she doing?

She heaved a sigh and then promptly gathered his nipple with her fingers and twisted it. Hard.

"Shit!" He pried her fingers off. "I didn't pinch you that hard!"

Callie's lips twitched and she glanced down at his waist, but said nothing. "Hm." She resumed her lazy strokes on his chest. "I'm not angry. It's just not what…" She paused and shook her head. "It's not what I planned for myself. It's not something we planned together, so I feel uneasy about it. It's a big change. So it's a little…"

"Sucker punch," Mark finished.

"Mhm." Callie's hand fell away and she touched her belly. Then clenched her tank top in a grip. "We were reckless."

Well, maybe that was what she needed. To vent out loud. Using this time to talk wouldn't be so bad. Even if it was in her bed.

"What are you thinking?" She mumbled. "About...About this?"

"Honestly Chula, it's hard to think at all." Mark gave her a sheepish grin, his hand disappearing beneath the covers to grab himself. At her look of warning, he quickly added, "But it'll be okay. Everything will work out like it's meant to."

"How can you be so sure? Someone like me…" She looked away from him. "With a baby."

"Someone like you?" He repeated, his brow wrinkling.

Callie bit her lip. "Nothing. Forget it."

"I know what you need." The suggestion was clear, even without his hand scuffling on the tent in the covers. He raised up to sit against the headboard. "You don't even have to do anything. Just let me do the work."

_Wait a minute...Is he calling me a log?_

She narrowed her eyes at him.

He continued unawares, flinging the covers off of himself as he jerked off like a rabbit on B vitamins. "First, just let me take care of this and then I'll get to you."

_Is he calling me lazy?_

Her eyebrow twitched.

"Could you, um..." He flicked his own nipple then lowered his gaze to her chest. "Could you let your nip slip?"

_He is, isn't he?_

Her jaw tightened.

"Fuck, Callie! This won't take long at-"

With a grunt, her foot collided with his thigh. Pushing with all her might, Mark tumbled over to the side out of the bed. The lamp rattled as he knocked into the nightstand and thudded face first to the floor. With renewed purpose, she kicked her own covers off and swiftly rose from the bed, dark hair curtaining her shadowed face as adrenaline raged through her.

"What'd I do?!" He cried, cupping his penis and writhing on the floor. Tears glossed down his cheeks and slobber leaked from his mouth in an ugly cry to end all others.

It was repulsive to look at. He was just so horrendously ugly. Just looking at his contorted features, Callie felt the very real urge to throw up. Nausea swam through her and brought chills to her skin. She swallowed and doubled over, rubbing her stomach to try and quell it. She must have rose too suddenly because the feeling didn't go away. It came quicker, faster, hitting her throat. Quicker still. Faster.

_Oh God!_

Hastening, she cupped a hand over her mouth and flew into the bathroom on thudding feet for trip number ten.

Throwing herself over the toilet, she barely aimed before the meager contents of her stomach came spewing out. With burning eyes and a leaky nose, her knees pressed to the cool tile, her body coiling tightly, and her hair mingling into the mix, Callie clutched the bowl and became something so hopelessly disgusting that it put her crying fit on the kitchen floor to shame.

Mark's cries permeated her dizzying brain, switching between panic and utter confusion as the splash of toilet water gleamed across her lips from the force of her wretch.

"Fuck! Callie! Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmy-Fuck! I think it's broken! Oh Christ, it's-please! What...what did I ever do to you?!"

Puffing, she wiped her mouth with the back of her shaky hand, then fumbled for the handle. As the water swirled the bowl, something heavy sank in her chest. She pushed herself up, coughing.

Yes. 

She stared at her reflection. At the rawness of her eyes, then down at the rawness of her bubbly hands. 

She was pregnant.

_He did this to me._

Making her way back into the bedroom, she glared with renewed ferocity at Mark, who was on his knees on the floor. Face just as raw but redder. Saltwater pumping down his eyes and...

_What the..?_

Was that snot dripping on her floor?

He was just leaving all traces of himself everywhere, wasn't he?!

Who did he think he was anyway? Doing this to her? Having the audacity to make that kind of face in her home?

_This ugly motherfucker._

Vein popping in her temple, she vaulted back to her bed. Her hand shot out blindly for a pillow and she rounded on him full speed. With astonished eyes, he recovered from his so-called injury and hurried to fix his underwear, stretching them wide in his haste to evade her.

"Get out!" She swung and hit his defensive hands as he flinched. "Get out! Get out, Feo!"

She swung again and missed, hitting the lamp. It toppled to the floor with a thunk, but didn't break. Mark scrambled around the room and Callie chased him with the pillow, beating him with it, the walls vibrating from their thuds and thumps.

Sweating, he ducked another blow and scooped up his jeans. "Cal-"

"Vete!" She roared with a hoarse throat, tears of fury prickling her eyes. Damn it! This pillow was too light. Whose fucking idea was that?! She hurled it at his back, wishing it was a brick.

"Okay!" He said, swinging around to face her and holding up his hands. "Okay, I'm going."

"Now!"

He scurried for his shirt and shoes as she bull rushed him out of the room.

Her arm brushed a picture on the wall in the hallway. It fell to the floor, cracking. She let it be, hurrying him out, out, out of her space!

In her rush, her breast slipped out of her shirt, and this guy must have eyes in the back of his head or something, because he immediately paused by the front door and whirled around to face her.

"Wait a minute, Ca-huh?"

His eyes flicked down to it. For a moment, he stared at it as if he, the Head of Plastics, had never seen a breast before. Gawking with little beady eyes.

Callie clenched her fist.

It was her baby's eating utensil, for fucks' sake. It was a sippy cup of nourishment now. Would he really take food out of their child's mouth?

_This greedy motherfucker._

She glared at him and saw the hope melt into fear. Growling some unintelligible language, Callie jerked the milk dispenser back into her flimsy tank top and sidestepped him to yank open the door. "Get the fuck out, you lawless pervert."

"But..." He gulped as she shoved him into the hallway. "What did I do?"

"Argh!" She slammed the door in his face, regrettably missing his bare foot, chest heaving with her mouth open, breathless and tired.

"Callie!" Mark called through the door. "My keys!"

"Fucking walk!"

One palm on the door and the other on her belly, she took a moment to catch her breath. The rage was almost tangible the way it filled her. She could feel it lifting away and a sense of relief washed over her. And then just as suddenly, a hunger pang struck her gut.

From attempted murder, to repose, to hunger in under a minute. She soothed her stomach with gentle rubs.

_What are you doing to me already?_

"I'm sorry," Mark said. He blew out a breath. "I'm not trying to be insensitive, Callie. I just don't know what to do."

"You're not the only one, Mark."

"I wanted to take your mind off of it. Relieve some stress."

"Well, that's not what I need."

The pause that followed was long and heavy. 

"Then...what?" He said.

Callie chewed her lip. What she wanted was to go back to the way things were.

She hated that she felt like that with this pregnancy. Like they had made a mistake...

But there it was.

She was allowed to freak out, damn it! She could feel the rage building back up inside of her and she drew a long, deep breath. She loved to operate and she loved to screw. Now, she didn't feel like fucking or going to work. Forget giving up one of her passions, now she had to give up two?! She was happy with her life as it was. The two things she lived for would change forever.

But she had to breathe. Breathe and bite her tongue. Saying that aloud to him wouldn't help anything. He was probably thinking similar thoughts himself.

"Callie, I know everything will be okay because you're you. You're gonna make a great mom. You have so much spunk-"

"Ew." She wrinkled her nose. "I am not a terrier, Mark."

He chuckled.

"Well, you have a lot of good things inside of you. A lot of life. This is unexpected, but if I'm going to have a child, then there's no other woman I'd want to have one with. I only want to have one with someone like you."

Why couldn't they say these things without a barrier between them? It was ridiculous, but she felt it again. The comfort she'd expect to feel from a friend. And her rage settled.

"Don't get me wrong," he said with a weak chuckle. "I'm blindsided but...I'm still here, Cal. I'm not running from this. So..."

_So don't run either._

"Do what you need to do and get back to yourself. Isn't that what you told me when I came to Seattle?"

Callie smiled wistfully. "Mhm."

"You can't stay in there forever. Why don't you call Teddy?" He hesitated then said, "Or maybe you could go see Addison? I know they're worried about you. Teddy's stopped by twice and I'm sure Derek asking questions about you is Addison's doing." He chuckled. "Next thing you know, Blondie's gonna come skipping over here."

At the mention of Arizona's name, Callie giggled.

Oh, Arizona would not come knocking.

Mark's words faded out and she thought about the last time she'd really interacted with her. At the engagement party. God, it all came down to that night. This thing with Mark. Arizona.

Her eyes glazed over as she remembered the way Arizona had clumsily danced in that elegant gown. Her hair loosened from its chignon. Arizona in the drinking contest. Arizona saying things Callie hadn't thought her capable of. Words that shouldn't have been in her vocabulary. And above all, words spoken to a sex connoisseur.

But Arizona had spoken no evil since. In fact, she hadn't said a word to Callie. Not a single word, except for the obligatory, "I'm ready to close," and relaying the TOD on a hit and run victim last week. Callie hadn't exactly been eager to talk to her either. Her first attempt at speaking to her friend had garnered no response in return.

So Callie let her be.

But Callie had still been self absorbed, lost in her own thoughts about the matter. She’d known Arizona for five years. Five years of outings, events, and more importantly, conversation. Arizona was a close friend and Callie had been confident that she knew her.

She swallowed.

No one knew.

No one knew what a dirty little mind Arizona Robbins had. It was absolutely filthy, with a hard "TH."

And that night, those filthy words had made Callie's panties drip. So much so that she had to shamelessly peel them off. Right under Lauren's roof.

No one knew what happened.

Just Callie.

And Arizona.

Which was why Arizona hadn't talked to her. Was it shame or guilt that drove her?

Callie shook her head and leaned her back against the door as Mark droned away to an audience of none..

She needed to stop thinking about last month. Hadn't she done that enough already? What was she trying to figure out anyway? Arizona was as vanilla as they came. Like bashful, predictable, self conscious vanilla. A type of vanilla that would frustrate Callie. Her bedtime stories would put Callie to sleep. In her experience, vanilla never made the cut. Long story short, Callie had no chemistry with vanilla. She wouldn't even waste her time with such a spice.

And yet, she pondered that evening to no end because sex was her identity. Talking about it. Having it. Exploring it. Arizona had been wasted on bourbon, but even a drunk person wouldn't change their demeanor as much as she had. It was puzzling how someone as vanilla as Arizona could do a complete 360 and pull such a reaction out of her.

Then again, mindful though she was, Callie had still been intoxicated. Maybe she was exaggerating things without realizing.

"Maybe," she whispered.

Whatever the case may be, she couldn't continue to obsess over this. She needed to forget about it.

Or at least pretend to.

It didn't need to be brought up again. By the way things were looking, Arizona would probably not talk to her for a while, let alone mention it. But if she ever did, Callie would just have to feign ignorance.

"Cal?" Mark said.

She blew out a breath and took another.

Callie had more important things to worry about than that night, or even Arizona in general. She had her boyfriend and this pregnancy to deal with.

"Fine," she said. "I'll go see Addison in a bit."

Mark was right.

She couldn't lie in bed.

She couldn't wash her hands of this.

Callie needed to face it. She would start by heading to the hospital and telling Addison the news, though she wasn't looking forward to the crying that was to come.

"Sooo…" Mark dropped his voice. "Is it time to make up? My dick's not broken."

Callie chuckled and shook her head. "The day is still young."

"Come on…"

"Go home, Mark."

"I know you want to...Come on…"

"Go. Home."

"Wait, you really want me to walk?!" He squeaked.

"Marcus!"

The voice was like a rusted hinge and it came from her neighbor, Miss Margaret, a woman who had a propensity for cornering Mark in the hallway. The woman was probably younger than she looked, and she looked to be in her hundred and fifties. She didn't have an ounce of meat on her and she had heightened senses, especially where her nose was concerned. She was also twice widowed, a fact she loved talking about. Causes of death for both of her spouses were debatable.

Callie adored her.

"Marcus!" She said, her voice closer to the door now. "My stories are on!"

"Oh! Sorry, Margaret," he said. "How are you?"

"Well, I tell you, Marcus, I am incensed."

"Oh." Mark gave her a haughty chuckle. "Incensed, huh?"

"Don't you mouth off to me. Let me tell you." Her voice lowered. "I will fuck you up."

Callie snickered into her palm. Miss Margaret talked rudely to everyone, but for some reason, she laid into Mark whenever she saw him. And she refused to say his name correctly.

Margaret let out a long series of coughs that sounded like they had wet bits of lung in them. "Now, I've been deaf off and on for thirteen years."

"Oh wow. I'm uh, so sorry to hear that."

"Are you, Marcus?"

"Um, yes."

"Then why don't you let folks be? If I can hear you on my deaf days, then you are doing too much."

"Christ," Mark breathed. "How good is your hearing when it's on?"

Callie blew raspberries into her hand.

"And I'll tell you this," Margaret said. "You should be ashamed of yourself, preying on a sweet, innocent, frail, and helpless pregnant woman like you been doing. Who raised you, Marcus? A beggar?"

“Frail?!"

"Huh?! Speak up, son. I can't hear. Haven't you done enough?"

A smack rang out in the air. Callie bit her lip to stifle the giggles.

"Leave that poor woman alone!"

"Alright!"

"And Heavens, Marcus! What in the good Lord's name are you wearing? Are those bloomers? Put on your blessed clothes before you catch a cold!"

"Ah, yes ma'am…You have a good-"

"Oh, Callie. Bless her heart." A door banged shut.

"Afternoon…"

Callie finally let out her laughter, ignoring Mark's knocks. The door knob twitched furiously as Mark tried to open it. It was funnier than it should've been, but she didn't care. She felt so much better. Lighter. She laughed without abandon until tears threatened to fall.

"You're not gonna let me in, are you?" He groaned.

"Nope," she said, calming.

"I guess I'll go back to work then." He paused. "Will I see you later?"

Callie frowned, taking in her apartment for the first time since Tuesday. His jacket was strewn on the back of a chair. A couple of bottles of empty beer plagued her coffee table. His work folders were tossed to the side. His things were everywhere.

"Yes," she said anyway. "I'll come see you."

She took a deep breath and sighed. Everything was going to be okay. She backtracked to her bedroom, stepping over the picture of her and Arizona in the hallway.

Rubbing her stomach, she went to pick up the pregnancy test off the floor. She set it with the others.

And showered.

* * *

  
**Translations**

**Chula- Sexy**

**Feo- Ugly**

**Vete!- Leave!  
**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone stay safe...
> 
> fjot


End file.
